


Tinker, Pirate, Captain, Spy

by gmariam



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Halloween, M/M, alien tech
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2015-11-01
Packaged: 2018-04-28 13:11:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5091986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gmariam/pseuds/gmariam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Owen, Ianto, and a series of clothing issues.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

There were days when Ianto loved his job at Torchwood, and there were days when he did not.

Most days he enjoyed what he did for a living, even if he was bent over with a stitch in his side, mud on his shoes, and blood in his hair from chasing Weevils across the barrage and being tossed into the wall. He knew he was saving the innocent citizens of Cardiff from having their throats ripped out, and, almost as important, he knew the adrenaline rush would result in a spectacular shag once he and Jack got back to the Hub, cleaned up, and sent the others home.

Working in the Archives was fascinating and fulfilling as well, although there were a number of questionable artifacts tossed on the upper shelves that Ianto worried about, and, to his slight shame, put off tagging and cataloging. But he didn't fancy the thought of losing life or limb just because he picked up the wrong end of an innocent alien toy even a five-year-old from the future could operate without breaking a sweat, so he tried not to think about the dusty top shelves much.

And he knew that creating the fictional cover-ups the job sometimes required was one of his greatest strengths. Yes, he made great coffee, and yes, he knew how to give an amazing blowjob, but there were times when Ianto felt he deserved the Man Booker prize for the stories he spun and the tales he told to cover up the truth about trans-dimensional aliens buzzing Welsh sheep farms for wool. He had created Cardiff's very own amphibious Nessie, after all; the newspaper article was framed in the tourist office.

And then there were the bad days. Days where Jack not only died, but Ianto woke up unconscious and bleeding next to him and spent the next three days limping with twenty stitches in his leg. Days where extraterrestrial viruses put the Hub in lockdown and resulted in copious amounts of rainbow colored vomit followed by voracious cravings for Turkish delight. Numerous days where alien technology went wrong and stole one's voice, or one's eyebrows, or even one's ability to reflect light on the electromagnetic spectrum.

Meetings with the overseers at Whitehall. Conference calls with the blowhards at UNIT. Email exchanges with the clueless Cardiff detectives determined to get to the bottom of Torchwood, that flash SUV, and that prat with the coat flapping about. Not to mention the constant stream of caffeine, food, snark, and general support that was required and yet rarely acknowledged, except by his boss, who rode him like a 51st century horse and cried out in a language that would not be spoken for thousands of years when he came.

Most days Ianto loved his job at Torchwood. It gave him meaning, purpose, and a bloody good shag whenever he wanted. Other days, he'd happily walk away, throw himself into the bay, and hitch a ride on the first ship bound for south Australia.

Owen had been working on the singularity scalpel for weeks. After his death, he'd put it down, too pissed off to do anything else but glower at it. As he started to adjust to his strange undead state, he gradually began returning to his old projects. In fact, he worked on them even more, because he couldn't go out to eat, drink, or shag anymore. Ianto thought it was probably the worst sort of hell for a man like Owen Harper.

So Owen was searching for tech that was similar, something he could study to see if he couldn't get the scalpel to work more accurately. He had almost taken off Ianto's head trying to impress Martha, and several items in the Hub had been unintentionally vaporized as a result of his tinkering. As Ianto was caught up with cleaning, filing, and every other damn thing he did around the Hub, he'd agreed to help when Owen had asked. He pulled up some of his favorite alt rock on the computer, and they sorted through the digital records before heading into the stacks to find the actual artifacts.

Ianto was fairly certain they were all broken bits of space junk with the occasional sex toy thrown in. Most were useless for their purposes, and they began to amuse themselves by renaming things as they rejected them, so that the sub-atomic particle cannon became the Blaster Caster and the multiphasic wavelength scanner became the Wave Stave.

The latest one looked like an alien video game controller: handheld with several flat, monochrome buttons, it was labeled 'Possible Xbox controller. Probably from the future. Most likely broken.' in a scribbled handwriting Ianto did not recognize. Owen mimed pointing it at an invisible television screen, Ianto made a snarky comment about their last Space Invaders tournament, and suddenly he found himself flat on his back next to Owen, staring at the ceiling and wondering if a pixilated alien had knocked him out.

He felt sort of tingly, as if he'd been electrocuted. Sitting up slowly, he rubbed at his arms, trying to brush the static electricity from his suit coat. Only he was no longer wearing his suit coat. He was wearing a dinner jacket—a single-breasted Brioni, when he shamelessly checked the label. It was made of fine black wool, one button with peaked lapels. Double vent, straight jetted pockets, and four button cuffs. The spread collar shirt with a Swiss pleated front fit him perfectly, mother of pearl cufflinks accented the double French cuffs, and the butterfly bowtie was currently lying untied around his neck. Black braces held up the darted trousers, and a black cummerbund fit snugly around his waist. New patent leathers, a posh wristwatch, and a white pocket handkerchief finished the ensemble. He even felt a shoulder holster he hadn't been wearing before; reaching into it, he pulled out a Walther PPK, definitely not standard Torchwood issue.

He felt remarkably like…but no, it couldn't be…

"Jones!" shouted Owen, slowly standing on shaky legs. He had lost the scruffy jeans he'd come in with; instead he was wearing dark trousers with a bold red stripe down the side. A wide utility belt sat around his waist with some sort of weapon slung from it and another smaller pistol strapped to his thigh. A grungy white shirt showed half his chest, dark boots covered half his legs, and a black vest with too many pockets to be fashionable topped it all off. Ianto swore he looked just like…but no…

"What the hell?" said Owen. "I get space pirate and you get sophisticated spy? How is that fair?"

"Depends," said Ianto, standing and circling around Owen.

"On what?" demanded Owen.

"On what the hell just happened," said Ianto. He couldn't help it; he grinned broadly. "You look like you stepped right out of a movie."

"And you look like you tripped and fell out of a casino," Owen snapped. "Any idea why?"

"Wild guess?" asked Ianto, motioning at the video game controller Owen was still holding that was almost certainly  _not_  a video game controller. "Probably something to do with that."

"I didn't touch it!" Owen groused.

"You  _are_  holding it," Ianto pointed out. "You may be dead, but usually holding something in one's hand requires touching it in some manner."

"I didn't press any buttons," Owen replied defensively. Ianto shrugged.

"Because alien tech always makes sense around here?" he asked. Owen nodded in agreement. "All in a day's work and all that. Let's go see Tosh. She'll figure it out."

"No way," said Owen. "I am not going up there dressed like a cosplay reject from a B-level sci-fi convention."

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "It's much better than most cosplay, Owen. It's a perfect replication. You look just like—"

"Don't say it," Owen said, wagging a finger at Ianto. "Besides, how would you know?"

"Child of the eighties," Ianto shrugged and started for the main part of the Hub. He absently tied the bowtie as he walked. "Tell me you never had a lightsaber as a kid."

Owen mumbled under his breath, and Ianto knew he was right. They walked through the dark tunnels together. "Why did I get this and you get that?" Owen asked.

"Another good question for Tosh," replied Ianto. For some reason, he was strangely unconcerned. It was a fine suit and he felt pretty damn good in it. He wondered what the girls would think, what Jack would think…then he wondered if they'd been affected as well. He hadn't heard Jack bellow, but that didn't mean Jack wasn't upstairs in his office trying to figure out why he suddenly had a sword strapped to his hip. Of course, with Ianto's luck, Jack was probably wearing a black breathing mask instead, or had a mouthful of metal teeth.

As he stepped into the Hub, Ianto tried to curb his disappointment when saw Jack leaning over Tosh's shoulder at her computer. He was wearing his own clothes, which in some circles could certainly qualify as costume dress, and glanced up with a grin as Ianto and Owen joined them.

"We were just going to call you. Tosh picked up a slight power surge in…" He trailed off as he noticed their clothing. "Whoa. In the archive. Tosh, I think I found something."

"What?" asked Tosh, glancing away from her screens. She saw Ianto and then Owen and her eyes went wide. "Oh. Oh my."

Ianto was fairly certain she was blushing. Jack was staring at him so intensely that Ianto thought he might blush as well.

"Jack, I just got off the phone with—" Gwen stopped as she came up behind Tosh's station. She too stared. "Er, bit early for Halloween, isn't it boys?"

Owen grumbled under his breath. Ianto smiled again, mostly because he enjoyed anything that rubbed Owen the wrong way. He pulled at his sleeves, straightened his tie, and nodded. "A good idea should I find myself in need of a costume for all the Halloween parties I won't be attending this year, but I assure you this was completely unintentional. Owen found a new toy and I'm guessing it's some sort of costume replicator."

"A costume replicator?" asked Tosh. "Is there such a thing?"

Jack was silent; Ianto was starting to worry about the dazed look in Jack's eyes. "Well, I have no idea, but the evidence would certainly seem to indicate a strong possibility, wouldn't it? I don't normally wear a dinner suit to work."

"And I hate Star Wars," Owen grumbled.

"Liar," Ianto mumbled under his breath. Owen glared at him.

"Look, I was in the archives with Ianto trying to find something that might help me with the scalpel. I found this—" he handed Tosh the device he'd been messing around with at the time—"and even though I swear I didn't press a single button, I felt like I'd been shocked, fell on my arse, and got up to find myself looking like this."

"It looks good on you, Owen," Gwen said, apparently getting over her initial shock. "I always did like Han Solo. Disgruntled smuggler with a heart of gold."

Jack tore his eyes away from Ianto and glanced at Owen. He smirked. "I agree, Owen. The mercenary captain was always a favorite."

Ianto coughed to get everyone's attention. "Yes, yes, we all love Han Solo, but how did Owen end up dressed like him? You said you registered some kind of power surge?"

Tosh looked away from Owen and let her eyes run up and down Ianto in a very un-Tosh like manner. He gave her a surprised look that she returned with an unapologetic grin. "Sorry, Ianto, but you make a great James Bond."

"It's perfect," said Jack. "All you need is a martini—shaken, not stirred." He said the last in the tone of voice that always went straight to Ianto's cock. He shifted uncomfortably.

"Perhaps later," he murmured, exchanging a look with Jack that made Owen groan out loud.

"Stop with the eye fucks, please. Can we figure this out before you get it on?"

"I think Ianto's right and your new little toy is a sort of costuming device," said Jack, taking the artifact from Owen. "They're not unheard of for theater in the future. I don't know how it came up with these two for you if you didn't program it, but it did a good job. Very in character."

"I don't care how good it is," said Owen. "Can you get my old clothes back?"

Ianto blinked. He hadn't even considered what had happened to his old clothes. His other suit hadn't been lying next to him in the archives; it had been completely replaced by the Brioni. Which was a damn shame because Ianto had liked that particular pinstripe, mostly because Jack had liked it, especially taking it off.

"Your old clothes were probably transformed into these," said Jack, handing it to Tosh. "And most things like this have a reverse button, so I'm sure we'll figure it out." He paused, tucking his hands behind his back as he bounced on his toes. "There's no rush, is there?"

Ianto smirked, well aware that Jack was probably thinking exactly what he was thinking: role-play. They knew each other well and played off one another's hints and cues almost perfectly most days. He nodded in agreement, Jack licked his lips in anticipation, and Owen groaned again.

"I am not waiting around dressed as Han fucking Solo just so you can get your rocks off, Jack."

"Keep your pants on, Owen," Jack snickered. "Tosh, what do you think?"

"I'll take a look, Jack," she said. "It's probably just a matter of running some simulations on the device to determine how to reverse the process."

"Hit a button, any button," said Owen, but Tosh shook her head.

"Without knowing what might happen, I'd rather not. You wouldn't want to end up naked, would you?"

"Or worse," murmured Ianto.

"How's it get much worse than this?" asked Owen.

Ianto raised an eyebrow. "Ewok."

Everyone laughed but Owen, who grumbled and threw himself down on the sofa, swearing violently when his blaster got stuck in his groin. Gwen watched him with a sympathetic grin before turning toward Tosh.

"Want help?" she asked. Tosh nodded and lowered her voice to a stage whisper.

"I suspect they'll be useless until we figure it out," she said.

"I never thought we'd need to rescue Han Solo and James Bond," she said, and even Jack rolled his eyes.

"Stay on it, you two," he said. "They may look hot, but it might not work so well in the field."

"I'm not going out like this," called Owen.

Jack shrugged. "It is Halloween tomorrow, Owen. It'll pass for a day or two, but after that we might start getting questions, and we already get enough of those."

"Speaking of which," Ianto interjected, finally,  _finally,_  finding his opening to get Jack where he wanted him. "We need to go over last year's files for Halloween and this year's coverage. It can be a fairly busy night."

"Too right!" said Jack, hands tucked into his pockets with a grin. "I remember this one Halloween when—"

"Your office, sir?" Ianto interrupted with a pointed look. Jack's mouth formed a little 'o' of understanding, and he nodded, putting on the fake boss voice that no one believed for a second.

"My office, Ianto. Coffee?"

"Of course. I'll bring the files."

Jack winked and bounded off to his office. Owen cracked open an eye.

"You two are so bloody obvious sometimes it's a wonder you get any work done."

Ianto shrugged. "It's a wonder we get any work done at all with you blowing things up and making them disappear all the time." He was successful in diverting Owen's attention when the doctor sat up and pointed at him.

"That  _is_  my work at the moment, and you'll be happy to benefit from it someday."

"You mean, when you have to vaporize some sort of alien inside me?" Ianto replied dryly. "Yes, I'll be forever grateful."

"Damn right you will," Owen muttered. 

Ianto rolled his eyes, poked his head over Tosh's shoulder to watch her for a moment, then moved off to make coffee for Jack while they went over the Halloween files. Not that he expected to actually go over any files. He poured one cup and grabbed the first folder he saw on his desk, then headed up to Jack's office, fully intending to pour himself a martini just to see the effect it would have on Jack.

* * *

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once upon a time two Torchwood fans came together to write and beta. They were named Gmariam and Taamar. And not only did they write and beta, but they bred plot bunnies like no one's business. Oh, the stories they haven't yet told! This is one of them. Many thanks to Taamar for the initial costume prompt and for letting me run with it. I hope you enjoyed the beginning. There are a two or three more parts to go, and I do hope you enjoy them all, although I might change the rating for the next one. As for the title…I really have no idea, but as soon as I typed it, that was it. Thanks for reading!


	2. Part Two

Fortunately the blinds were already closed when Ianto arrived in Jack's office and shut the door behind him. Jack was at his desk, watching with those patented bedroom eyes. When Ianto set down the mug of coffee at Jack's elbow, Jack grabbed his arm, gently pushing up his jacket sleeve and fingering the pearl cufflinks. Jack's eyes slipped closed as he caressed Ianto's wrist, and Ianto watched with both amusement and growing desire as Jack licked his lips before standing and wrapping his arms around Ianto's waist. Those newly moistened lips moved toward Ianto's neck.

"I've never seen anything or anyone so stunning," he murmured, his voice low and hoarse with lust. Ianto could feel the proof of Jack's words against his thigh and his own body responded quickly in kind.

"Not even Daniel Craig in blue swimming trunks?" Ianto couldn't help but tease. Jack stood straighter and stared into his eyes.

"Not even close," he whispered, and Ianto couldn't wait any longer. He slammed his lips to Jack's, not caring that the rest of the team were still in the Hub, that the door wasn't locked, that he and Jack were usually quite loud. He'd never felt sexier than he did at that moment and couldn't wait another minute to take advantage of it, get naked, and shag Jack Harkness until he was a screaming puddle beneath him.

They grasped desperately at clothing; Jack's braces came down first, and Ianto started on the buttons of his shirt. Jack pushed the Brioni from Ianto's shoulders and let it fall to the floor…only for Ianto to feel it settle back on his shoulders almost immediately. He frowned against Jack's lips and pulled away, shrugging out of the jacket himself and tossing it over the desk.

When he turned back to Jack, the jacket was on once more.

"What the hell," he muttered. He ignored it as he returned to Jack's lips and felt the other man smiling against him.

"All right there, tiger?" Jack asked, and Ianto growled before moving along Jack's jaw so he could answer.

"I can't get my jacket off," Ianto replied, then nipped at his ear, eliciting a delicious gasp from Jack. "And don't call me tiger."

"Yes, sir," Jack moaned, then kissed him again and started unbuttoning Ianto's shirt. He pulled it from the trousers and pushed both the shirt and jacket together away from Ianto's body. Ianto felt a brief brush of cool air against his chest before the weight of both returned. He frowned; Jack tried again; no success.

He moved to Ianto's trousers, pulling them down and letting them fall to the floor while fondling Ianto through his pants. As soon as Ianto stepped out of them, the trousers reappeared almost immediately. They stopped and stepped apart.

"Something's not right about this," Jack said, stating the obvious. Ianto stared at him, the hard-on in his pants straining to be released.

"You think?" He kicked off his shoes; they came back. He flung his bowtie across the room; it reappeared around his neck. He growled and plucked out the pearl cufflinks, then irrationally considered swallowing them, but they disappeared from his hands and were back in the cuffs before he could.

"No," said Jack, his voice cracking. "No, no, no…"

Ianto stared at him, then ran from the office, not caring that his shirt was still unbuttoned and his tie undone.

"Tosh!" he shouted. "Have you fixed it yet?"

Tosh and Gwen glanced up in surprise. Their eyes widened as Jack appeared beside Ianto, braces down, shirt open, lips red. Ianto rolled his eyes at their reaction.

"Focus," he snapped. "I can't get my suit off."

There was a snort from Owen that immediately infected Tosh and Gwen with repressed giggles. Ianto stomped his foot.

"Not like that!" he said. " _Literally_." He took off his jacket, dropped it, and just like that, he was wearing it again.

"Oh," said Gwen.

"Wow," said Tosh.

"Fuck," said Owen.

Ianto whirled on him. "Try it."

"I'm not stripping in front of you lot!" Owen exclaimed.

"Owen," Jack growled. Owen sighed, stood up, and took off the black vest. He dangled it from his fingers.

"Must be you," he snickered, letting it fall to the floor. "Because I-"

The vest never landed; it was back on Owen before he finished his sentence.

"Bugger," said Owen, trying again. The vest reappeared. So did his belt and his boots.

"Tosh," he said. "Please tell me we're not stuck like this."

"Er," she started. Gwen was staring open mouthed at Jack and Ianto. Her eyes moved down past their waist, and she turned quickly back toward Tosh with her hand over her mouth.

"It's not funny," snapped Jack. For some reason, he was pointing his wrist strap at the alien artifact and frantically pressing buttons, as if he could get it to work by force of will alone. Ianto gave him a curious look; Jack shrugged.

"Desperate times and all that," he murmured.

Tosh was watching them, her eyes drifting downward like Gwen's, to where it was painfully obvious what Jack and Ianto had been getting up to in the office; it certainly wasn't the Halloween files. "You know you don't  _have_  to take everything off, Jack…" She trailed off, the implication clear. Gwen snorted on another laugh while Owen groaned.

"Tosh!" Ianto exclaimed. "You…you…" He couldn't finish, too stunned at her rare show of forwardness, and wagged his finger at her. "You really are warped on the inside."

"You keep saying that," she murmured, turning back toward the computer. "Do you want to get naked or not?"

Jack nodded emphatically and Ianto kicked his shin. "I'd like to be able to change, Tosh. I don't want to wear the same suit for the rest of my life."

"It's a good looking suit, Ianto," said Gwen. Jack nodded again, his eyes so glazed Ianto was surprised the man wasn't drooling.

"And how am I supposed to clean it?" Ianto demanded. "What if…if I'm chasing a Weevil and rip it?"

"Maybe it repairs itself," replied Tosh. "Otherwise what's the point of it never coming off?"

"Torture?" suggested Owen. Jack shook his head.

"Not being able to get it off someone else is the real torture," said Jack, sounding forlorn. "I wonder if it's some sort of special parental setting."

"Like a chastity belt?" suggested Gwen, and her and Tosh burst into peals of laughter once more. Ianto mouthed 'decaf' at them, and they stopped immediately.

"Or maybe it was intended for situations where…" Jack trailed off and shook his head in frustration. "I have no idea. Maybe it short-circuited when-" He coughed. "When it activated."

"Can you fix it then?" asked Ianto, sounding desperate. He tried not to shift his trousers, but they were still uncomfortable. Tosh was right about not having to completely remove his clothes for certain activities; he and Jack had certainly had enough practice with it around the Hub or out in the field. The problem was that it would be morbidly embarrassing if his trousers returned to their proper place right in the middle of one of Jack's more brilliant blow jobs. Would Jack be sucking his cock one minute and end up with a mouthful of wool the next? And what if Ianto came all over the fine suit? Would it self-clean if he took it off, or would it reappear just as sticky?

"I only just started analyzing the data ten minutes ago, Ianto," said Tosh. "But yes, I'm sure I'll be able to figure it out. It's hardly the most complicated bit of tech around here. Or the most ridiculous accident we've had." She paused. "I mean, at least we can still see you."

When Tosh and Gwen dissolved into giggles again, Ianto promised himself he'd not only serve them decaf for a week, but cut off their Hobnobs as well.

"Keep working on it," said Jack. He turned to Ianto and raised an eyebrow. "I suppose we'll have to go over those files after all."

"Always the intention, sir," Ianto murmured, following Jack back toward the office. He stopped at his desk to pick up the files they actually needed this time.

"You're still not fooling us!" called Owen. Ianto gave him a two-fingered salute.

The blinds were still down and this time Jack locked the door behind them. Ianto sat down across from Jack's desk with a sigh, idly wondering when he'd have proper naked sex again until Jack approached him with that look of determination that Ianto both loved and hated. He leaned over Ianto and took the files from his hands, throwing them on the desk and placing one hand on either side of Ianto, trapping him in the chair.

"I'm not letting a dinner suit-even one this spectacular-stop me from what I want," he murmured in Ianto's ear, punctuating it with a lick and a suck. "And I want you, in that suit, downstairs right now."

Ianto turned and caught Jack's mouth with his own. He stood, still kissing the other man, and backed him toward the ladder that led to Jack's bunker. Jack climbed down immediately. Stepping unto the first rung, Ianto wrapped his shoes around the outside and slid the rest of the way down, feeling ridiculously smooth and a bit like his suit's namesake. Jack actually growled when he landed, pressing Ianto against the rungs for a passionate kiss before maneuvering them toward the bed. By the time they got there, Ianto's dress shirt was unbuttoned once more, though Jack did not try to push it off his shoulders. Instead he started in on Ianto's neck, working on the catch to Ianto's trousers at the same time and sliding his warm hand in immediately.

Naturally Ianto returned the favor, and they enjoyed a nice, leisurely grope that Ianto knew would never be enough, not then.

Jack grinned against his lips, then gave a little push so that Ianto fell onto the bed, tangled in his trousers. He started to toe off his shoes, but Jack shook his head.

"Won't work," he murmured, climbing over Ianto, braces gone and his button down already tossed on the floor. "You'll have to leave them on."

"In bed?" Ianto asked. It was one thing to sneak in a good shag with his clothes on around the Hub, but quite another with his shoes on in a real bed. It felt wrong, somehow. Besides, Jack wasn't wearing his boots and it didn't seem fair when Ianto couldn't get his to cooperate.

"I don't care," said Jack, running his hands up and down Ianto's chest and under his shirt, then down and around his hips until he had Ianto's cock in his hand once more and a nipple in his mouth. Glancing up at him, Jack winked. "I do like the suit, after all." He grinned and moved lower, trailing kisses along Ianto's stomach before nuzzling between his thighs and finally taking Ianto into his mouth.

Ianto's hips bucked reflexively, and he swore out loud; he loved the feel of Jack's mouth engulfing him, but he hated wearing all his clothes and shoes when he was horizontal. And why was Jack still dressed? At least he could undress and let Ianto enjoy the view, live vicariously through Jack's nakedness.

After repeatedly bringing Ianto close to the edge only to stop him from toppling over, Jack finally left off with a gentle kiss to the head of Ianto's cock, then surged up to capture Ianto's mouth with his own. It was the opening Ianto had been waiting for, and his hands scrabbled at Jack's trousers, pushing them down as quick as he could and grabbing Jack's arse hard and close. Jack pulled back and gazed into Ianto's eyes with a grin.

"And here I thought you'd be uncomfortable wearing more than me," he teased.

"Less talking and more undressing," Ianto growled, moving to pull Jack's white vest over his head. He let his hands roam across the smooth expanse of Jack's chest, tweaking at his nipples, reaching around his strong back to pull Jack into another passionate kiss, then moving lower toward Jack's eager cock.

"Everything off," Ianto said. Jack obeyed immediately, shucking the rest of his clothes off the back of the bed. Ianto reached blindly for the lube somewhere on the side table beside him. He couldn't find it and swore again. Jack leaned down to kiss away his frustration, left hand fondling Ianto's balls as his right reached to the floor and returned with the much-needed prize.

It was quickly put to fantastic use, and Ianto realized that not only did Jack have a major suit kink (which he'd long suspected, but then he'd never worn such a sharp dinner suit with Jack before, nor kept so much of one on in bed) but Ianto had a bit of a kink himself.

Next time Jack would keep his clothes on while Ianto shagged him stupid. Maybe Jack had an old uniform around somewhere…

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could you picture them making out and trying to undress only for Ianto's clothes to keep reappearing? What I wouldn't give to see such a thing! It makes me giggle and I hope you did too. Not done, but get your toothbrushes ready! And thanks for reading!


	3. Part Three

When Jack and Ianto reappeared an hour later, Tosh, Gwen, and Owen were all wearing ear protection from the firing range. And when Tosh and Gwen glanced up at them and started giggling, it was fairly obvious why. Ianto turned around, determined to sit out his humiliation in the Archives. Yes, the team unofficially knew he and Jack were shagging again, but to confirm it in the middle of an artifact malfunction with embarrassingly loud sex was mortifying even for their unconventional relationship.

Unfortunately, Jack grabbed his arm and dragged him toward Tosh's computer. "What have you got for us, Tosh?"

Tosh took off her ear protectors and turned toward them. Ianto gave her a pointed look; she grinned; he narrowed his eyes; she pouted; when Ianto refused to back down from their nonverbal battle of facial expressions and raised an eyebrow, she sighed.

"Not much, I'm afraid," she finally replied. "I'm picking up absolutely nothing from the device. No power, no data, nothing. I'd go so far as to say it's broken."

"But how did this happen, then?" asked Ianto. "If the device short circuited when Owen activated it, how could it have worked on us first?"

Jack started to move away, hands tucked into his pockets, head ducked down. "I think it happened later," Tosh replied, glancing briefly at Jack before addressing Ianto. "I ran a Hub scan to see if there were any other energy bursts after the one we picked up in the Archives that might have affected it—maybe something from the Rift, something from our computers."

"Did you find anything?" Ianto glanced over toward Jack, who was definitely trying to escape the conversation. Ianto narrowed his eyes, trying to pinpoint the niggling feeling at the back of his mind that he was missing something.

"I found a small burst of energy here in the main part of the Hub that could have done it, right after you came up. But I can't pinpoint what it's from." She turned back to her computers. "Which means I have no idea what it did or how to fix it yet."

Ianto was still watching Jack as he tried to sneak back into his office. Because he was clearly sneaking; Jack's exits were almost as big and dramatic as his entrances. For him to lope off silently meant he knew something, and it probably wasn't good.

"Jack knows," he announced, crossing his arms over his chest as Jack froze in the doorway to his office. "At least, he has some idea of what happened."

"Jack?" asked Gwen, turning toward Jack with her usual look of muddled confusion and disappointment.

"You called?" asked Jack, turning with a false grin.

"Yeah, what the hell did you do to us, Harkness?" asked Owen, coming to stand next to Ianto.

"I don't know what you mean," started Jack, but Ianto interrupted him.

"He means, what did you do with your wrist strap that broke the device?" asked Ianto, moving closer. "I saw you fiddle with it. I'm guessing it gave out that burst of energy. And now my suit won't come off." He raised that eyebrow again, knowing Jack would find it hard to resist.

"I…I…" He shrugged, toeing the ground like a reprimanded schoolboy. "I didn't mean to break it," he said, glancing up, a small smile tugging at his lips. "I wanted to…to turn it off for a while. Enjoy it."

"Bloody hell," muttered Owen. Gwen stared at him and Tosh giggled. Ianto let his eyes slip closed with the sigh of the long-suffering.

"Enjoy it?" asked Ianto.

"Well, yeah," said Jack. "I didn't want you to change back right away. Do you know how much I was looking forward to peeling that suit off you as slowly as I could?"

Ianto covered his face with his hand while Owen made retching sounds.

"Now we do," murmured Tosh.

"It was an accident!" Jack said. "It's obviously a different model than the one I'm familiar with and I gave it a bit too much of an electromagnetic micropulse. I was just trying to turn it off so I could enjoy the suit for a bit longer."

"Well, you fried it instead," Owen remarked. "Which means you need to fix it. I don't care how good the sex is with Mr. Jones, Ianto Jones—fix it!"

Ianto glanced at Owen in surprise, wondering how he'd known about Ianto's embarrassing first meeting with Jack in the park. Jack was smirking, however, and Ianto decided the man needed to look and act more remorseful.

"Jack!" he snapped, gaining the captain's attention immediately. "You broke it, you help fix it. Give Tosh your wrist strap to see if she can't isolate the micropulse you used and reverse the effect."

"Good idea, Ianto," she said, glancing up in excitement. Jack had never let Tosh near his wrist strap, and he didn't look like he wanted to either.

"Now, Jack," said Ianto, stepping forward and holding out his hand. "Because you've already seen the consequences." Jack let his eyes roam from person to person, as if looking for support. He found none and slowly unbuckled the strap, mumbling under his breath the entire time before handing it to Ianto, who promptly handed it to Tosh. The technician looked like Christmas had come early.

"What was that?" asked Ianto. Jack looked up and smirked.

"I said, the consequences weren't that bad."

"Maybe for you, Harkness," said Owen. "It wasn't Ianto we heard shouting loud enough to rattle the walls."

"That's because he's—"

"That's enough, Jack," said Ianto.

"—silent but deadly," finished Jack.

"Oh god." Ianto covered his face again before turning toward Tosh. "Can you work it out?"

"I'll do my best, Ianto," she said. "I'll have to look at the wrist strap first to see what kind of micropulse he used and then run some tests on them together."

"Don't hurt it!" Jack exclaimed.

"It's not a person," said Owen, rolling his eyes.

"It might as well be," Jack replied with a pout. Gwen tilted her head.

"You look strange without it," she said.

"Naked," added Ianto without thinking. When the girls bit back yet another giggle, he turned and headed toward the archive. Changing his mind, he decided to go up to the tourist office instead. It was in the archives that they'd found the costuming device, and he felt like staying away from the scene of the so-called crime until it was sorted. Especially since the archives offered far too many places for Jack to corner him for another quickie. He could do all sorts of cataloging and filing upstairs instead. Very James Bond.

He didn't open the office to the public, but kept his tie loose and his jacket open and puttered around cleaning both the front and back rooms, muttering to himself the entire time. On the one hand, he loved the suit and enjoyed wearing it, even if he was stuck in an underground base and not strutting around a five-star casino with a Vesper in his hand. On the other, he couldn't remove the suit and his colleagues were having way more fun taking the piss than he was enjoying the perks (except the sex, of course), and it was all Jack's fault yet again (both the piss-taking and sex).

He went back downstairs mid-way through the afternoon, making coffee and checking in with Tosh. She and Gwen stared at him a little too much for his comfort, and he had to refocus them on the computer and whatever tests they were running. Tosh shook her head.

"I'm sorry," she said, taking off her glasses. "Jack showed me what he did, but I haven't been able get any sort of reaction from the device. I've tried everything. It's like scrap metal."

"Shit," said Ianto, earning a raised eyebrow from Tosh. Gwen patted him on the arm, a gesture that turned into a caress as she ran her hand over the suit.

"Wow, that's nice," she murmured, then glanced up in surprise. "Sorry, Ianto. It's just so soft and smooth. Don't worry, we'll figure it out."

"Although it'll be shame to lose such a fantastic dinner jacket," Tosh murmured, running her hand over Ianto's other arm. Ianto had to agree; apparently the suit made women swoon for him just as much as they did for James Bond.

"But it will be worth being able to shower," he pointed out.

"And shag," said Gwen.

"Naked," added Tosh.

"Exactly. Well, let me know if I can help, otherwise I'll be upstairs."

"Have you checked the files for anything similar?" asked Tosh. "Sort of like Owen was doing when he found it and mucked it all up?"

"Oi, I heard that!" shouted Owen from the medical bay. "And it wasn't me, it was our eternally horny captain who got us stuck like this."

"I'll take a look," said Ianto, slightly surprised he hadn't thought of it already. Then again, he'd been distracted by fantastic sex and annoyed by his coworkers' teasing. He glanced around the Hub, surprised to realize that Jack hadn't bellowed for coffee.

"Where's Jack?" he asked. Tosh was already back at her computer.

"He said he was going to try to help, see if he couldn't find another device."

"In the archives?" Ianto asked in horror. Jack had been stuffing things in the archive without a care for cataloging them for years; Ianto was only getting them organized again, and he shuddered to think of the mess Jack might make searching for something.

"He took the lift out," said Gwen. "Maybe he thinks Tesco will have them in the Halloween aisle."

Ianto frowned. "No, he's probably trolling the alien black market."

"We have an alien black market?" Gwen sounded surprised. Ianto rolled his eyes, since she'd been at Torchwood long enough that she shouldn't be surprised about much of anything anymore.

"Jack's been keeping an eye on a number of displaced aliens and their activities for decades, apparently," he told her. "Most are above board, but a few trade in some questionable items from time to time."

Tosh nodded to herself as she studied a stream of numbers flying by on her computer screen. "That's a good idea," she said. "Because we may as well use this one as a paper weight."

Ianto went back upstairs and lost himself in the digital archive searching for similar devices. He pulled up the soundtrack to his favorite Bond film, humming along and idly wondering if either Tosh or Jack were having any luck with their projects. He didn't fancy going home and sitting around in his suit, or even worse, sleeping in it. And he had no idea how he would clean up in the morning. He could drop his trousers to wash and scrub under his shirt and jacket, but if he took them off, would they come back dry, or would he walk around in a waterlogged suit all day?

Because he didn't think a Welshman in wet wool would look nearly as debonair as James Bond striding out of the ocean in those blue swimming trunks.

  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies, the fluff starts in the next and last chapter. Thanks for reading and enjoy!


	4. Part Four

It might have been one hour or six hours later when the door to the lift opened and Jack stepped out into the tourist office. Ianto glanced up, turned back to his computer, then looked up again, staring in amazement at the sight before him.

Jack was leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his chest and an absolute shit-eating grin on his face. He was wearing a stunning midnight blue dinner suit that looked incredible, and by the gleam in his eyes, he knew it. Ianto gaped as his hands fell away from the computer keyboard. He stood and slowly walked toward Jack, noting every perfect detail.

Single breasted, one-button, shawl collar. Double vent, four button cuffs, straight jetted pockets. Reverse pleated trousers with braces and cummerbund. Plain front white dress shirt with cocktail cuffs and semi-spread collar. Onyx studs, batwing bowtie, patent leathers, and red carnation tucked into the pocket. He held out a second flower for Ianto.

Ianto had always liked Jack's period military look, no matter what Owen said about the old-fashioned trousers, braces, and shirts. He adored Jack's greatcoat. But this…this was something else entirely. A vision. A mouth-watering, tongue-tying vision of sex appeal standing before him holding out a hand in invitation. Ianto stopped in front of Jack, took the flower and set it on the counter, then pressed him hard against the wall, desperate to devour him right then and there. After a long, breathtaking kiss, he pulled back and met Jack's stunned grin with a wicked smirk.

"Back room," he whispered into Jack's ear as he ground against him. "Now."

"I guess you like the suit, huh?" Jack replied just as breathlessly.

"Walk, don't talk," Ianto growled, turning and dragging him toward the back room. They stumbled into the small space, kissing frantically, Jack's hands roaming across Ianto's back before Ianto even realized Jack had pulled up his shirt or unzipped his trousers.

"I definitely understand the appeal of the suit, now," he murmured, sucking a quick love bite into Jack's neck that would be gone in an hour. "Turn around for me."

"I want to see you," Jack protested, his hands everywhere, as if the feel of the suit were almost as good as the feel of Ianto's bare skin.

"And I want to fuck you," Ianto replied. "Turn around, Captain. I'll make it worth your while."

"Oh, I know you will," Jack replied. He pushed his trousers and pants down to the floor, though he did not step out. Ianto didn't care. He undid his own trousers, then swore when he realized the slick was stashed on the other side of the room.

"In my pocket," Jack offered as if reading his mind. Ianto leaned down to dig through Jack's trousers and reappeared with one of the packets Jack seemed to carry around like candy. He wrapped one arm around Jack's waist and pulled him closer, hands roaming across Jack's belly, his thighs, his balls. Jack groaned everytime Ianto skirted his cock, gasping when Ianto brought his other hand up behind to prepare him. It didn't take long, and Ianto relished the moment when he pushed into Jack, breathing out Jack's name as his head fell to Jack's shoulder. Pressing a kiss to his neck. Ianto wrapped both arms around Jack's hips and began moving.

Jack met him thrust for thrust. Ianto let his right hand slide down to Jack's cock and began to stroke him in time with his thrusts from behind. Jack's breathing increased and he arched his back, baring his arse for Ianto and pushing forward into Ianto's hand, faster and faster. Ianto grinned as he began to pound harder, aiming for that spot that would send Jack falling over the edge and knowing he'd hit it when Jack cried out his name and spilled into Ianto's hand.

He grabbed Ianto's wrist and licked his fingers clean, clenching hard around him and sending Ianto into his own brilliant climax, hot come exploding into Jack as spasms of pleasure rolled through him, leaving him completely exhausted and blissed out. His head fell back to Jack's shoulder again, and Jack kissed him on the temple.

"We really need to dress up more often," he said with a quiet laugh.

"I agree," said Ianto, still refusing to move. "You look amazing."

"So do you," said Jack. "Which is why we should get dressed again. I'm taking you out."

"What?" asked Ianto. Jack turned, pointedly glancing around the room for something to clean up with. Ianto reached for the tissues on his desk, using several himself before pulling up his pants and trousers and straightening them as best as he could. He didn't really care; if he looked like he'd just had a great shag, it was because he had, and why shouldn't the world know?

"We're going out," Jack repeated. "Drinks, dinner, dancing. The whole package."

"Like this?" asked Ianto, and Jack pulled him close.

"Like this," he said softly. "It'll be amazing."

"We'll be overdressed," Ianto protested, though it was half-hearted because the idea definitely appealed to him.

"Not where we're going," Jack replied. "Trust me."

"What about the Hub?" asked Ianto, feeling obligated to point out that their job rarely left time for nights out.

"Everything's all set. The others left a little while ago, Tosh has the Hub systems routed to her mobile, and they've agreed to cover for us if anything comes up. We've got reservations at Arlwyon at seven."

Ianto shook his head. "Jack, that's impossible. Arlwyon's booking over six months out. I tried to get a table for-" He stopped, refusing to blush at his temporary brush with sentimental insanity when he'd tried to get a table for the six-month anniversary of Jack's homecoming. "I tried to get in, but no amount of verbal wrangling or name dropping could get reservation."

"You're not me," Jack replied with a wink. "Half the city owes me favors, so I called in a few." He paused. "When did you try to get in?"

Ianto glanced away with a shrug. "Few months ago. Like I said, it was full."

"Who were you-never mind," said Jack, shaking his head and slipping his hands into his pockets with the small smile Ianto read as more vulnerable than the big, bright one Jack often hid behind. "None of my business." Awkwardness descended.

"Well," Ianto replied, feeling the weight of it and desperate to throw it off even if left him embarrassed. "It would have been had I got us in."

There was a genuine smile now, lighting up Jack's face. He cocked his head, eyes twinkling. "Ianto Jones, were you going to take me out for a fancy dinner?"

Ianto held out his elbow, knowing Jack would slide his arm through as Jack liked old-fashioned gestures like that. "I'll spring for egg rolls tomorrow," he replied dryly, and was pleased when Jack not only laughed, but linked their elbows as they left the tourist office together.

As they walked up toward the Plass, a feeling of warmth and excitement filled Ianto at the thought of spending an evening on the town in his spectacular, alien-made dinner suit, drinking fine wine and eating great food. He couldn't picture the dancing, but there would most definitely be fantastic sex afterward. All with Jack. Who had somehow turned a bad situation into something worth remembering as more than another epic failure with alien technology.

They took a cab to the restaurant, even though Ianto had insisted he could drive. Jack had replied that there would be at least one bottle of the most expensive wine on the menu, if not more, so he hailed a cab and they spent the short trip to the restaurant trying not to fondle one another in the back seat. Ianto definitely understood Jack's fascination with suits now; the only thing better than Jack wearing a fine dinner jacket was Jack naked and trussed up in Ianto's bed.

Arlwyon was one of Cardiff's most exclusive restaurants, trendy, chic, and popular with any age as long as they could afford it. Often such places were more talk than substance, but as soon as they walked in, Ianto felt the elegant atmosphere sink into his pores and recognized it for the real thing. The stylish décor was posh without being pretentious, and the jazz pianist playing quietly in the bar was the perfect compliment to the timeless feel of the space. After ordering martinis (one dirty, one with a twist) and listening to the music for a while, Jack and Ianto were shown to their table in the dining room.

They were slightly overdressed, but not so much so that they stuck out. In fact, Ianto was fairly sure the looks they received were less for their dinner suits and more for the fact that they looked damn good in them, especially if the women glancing away from their husbands to dart looks in their direction were any indication. Jack knew it as well and positively preened over the attention. Ianto idly wondered if this was what it felt like to be a celebrity.

They threw caution to the wind and went with the ten course tasting menu with wine pairings. After a ridiculously verbose toast on both their parts, they settled into their meal, talking and laughing, feet rubbing together under the table, hands occasionally reaching across the table. They shared dishes, Jack having chosen the seafood menu and Ianto the meat, and by the time dessert came and they were sipping a smooth port, they were feeding each other from their forks, utterly unconcerned with appearances, relishing in the freedom of one another's company outside of Torchwood.

After closing out the restaurant, they moved downstairs, where a speakeasy of sorts was open until early morning. An small band played jazz standards, and Jack immediately dragged Ianto toward the small dance floor, where a handful of young couples tried to dance to music they were obviously unfamiliar with. Having heard it around the Hub, especially in Jack's office, Ianto knew the tunes, but as he'd never danced with a bloke before (shuffling back and forth with Jack after a hard day didn't qualify as dancing), he was equally as clueless with his moves.

Initially uncomfortable with his ignorance, Ianto had to admit that Jack knew what he was doing and was a patient teacher, so it wasn't long before Ianto had the hang of it and found himself even enjoying it. Slow ballads gave them a chance to hold one another close, and Ianto was certain he heard Jack singing softly in his ear. Faster tunes required a bit more coordination that waned as the night went on and fatigue set in, not to mention the various period cocktails they sipped as they rested and watched.

It was well past one in the morning when they left the restaurant, leaning against one another for support. Ianto hailed a cab as Jack stared at the sky, grinning happily. He gave the driver the address for his flat and was secretly thrilled when Jack didn't argue or redirect them back to the Hub. Ianto was determined to see the night through, and that included quality time in his bedroom, and possibly his shower if he chanced getting the suit soaked.

Jack hesitated only briefly when they arrived at Ianto's flat. All it took was a raised eyebrow from Ianto inviting him in and Jack grinned broadly, following him upstairs.

There was no frantic pushing and pulling at one another as they entered the dark flat. In fact, Jack followed Ianto straight through to the kitchen without even touching him, which surprised Ianto, though at the same time he was perfectly comfortable with the easy companionship between them at the moment and didn't mind at all. When he thought about it, he and Jack had spent the entire evening together with very little suggestive innuendo since they'd left the back room of the tourist office. Instead, they had laughed and talked and enjoyed one another's company rather than one another's cocks. Whatever that meant was something Ianto didn't think he'd dwell on; soon enough they'd be back to groping each other.

"One last nightcap?" Ianto asked as they stepped into the kitchen. Jack leaned against the counter and shook his head.

"Just water. I can't remember the last time I had so much to drink."

Ianto smiled as he pulled two water bottles from the refrigerator and handed one to Jack. "That's true. You've always stopped after a glass or two from what I've seen."

Jack shrugged and drank half his bottle. "I always told myself I needed to stay hydrated. Time travel can do a number on you and I had no idea when I'd-well, you know."

"Yes, I know," Ianto said softly. He was glad Jack didn't mention the Doctor as it would surely kill the evening.

"But when I first came here, back in the 1800s," said Jack, and Ianto felt a small thrill at the idea of Jack actually sharing something of his past, "I got a bit too much into it. When you're lost and confused and stuck out of your time, it's easy to fall into those self-destructive habits." He looked away with another shrug, then glanced back at Ianto. "But I know that won't happen, not now."

Ianto nodded, understanding what Jack said without him actually saying it. "I had a wonderful time tonight, Jack," he said softly. "Thank you."

Jack held out his hand. Ianto finished his water, set it down, and let himself be pulled close. Jack laid his head on Ianto's shoulder, and Ianto could almost hear the happy sigh in the other man's voice when he spoke.

"I did too," he said. "It's nice to know we can do normal."

"Jack, I'm wearing an alien suit that reappears when I try to take it off," Ianto pointed out. Jack laughed, and Ianto grinned against his hair.

"Normal for Torchwood, then."

They stood there for a long moment, until Ianto felt a yawn crack his jaw. He stepped back and held out his hand to Jack. "Come on, let's go to bed. I've got a flash suit to sleep in. Maybe if I take it off in the morning it'll come back clean and pressed."

Jack stopped, his eyes going wide. Ianto frowned. "What's wrong?"

A sheepish look crept from Jack's smile into his eyes. "Actually, nothing's  _wrong_ , exactly. Assuming you don't want to hit me in about sixty seconds."

Ianto sighed. "What did you do now?" he asked. Jack looked only slightly insulted.

"Not what you think," he replied. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a tiny round device. It reminded Ianto of the larger piece of technology Owen had found earlier, the apparent costume replicator that Jack had then broken in his attempt to turn it off so he could enjoy it a bit longer. But it couldn't be…

"Jack, is that what I think it is?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Jack touched a button in reply. The gorgeous midnight blue dinner suit disappeared in an instantaneous hazy blur, and Jack was standing before him in his more traditional black trousers, blue shirt, and braces.

"Yes?" he replied hesitantly.

"So you found another one," Ianto said. "Great. You can dress up now instead of hiring out when you need it. Did you happen upon a way to fix my problem?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," said Jack. He took Ianto's hand and placed the device into his palm. "It's a more advanced model, used for quick changes. Think about what you want to wear, press the right hand button, and you'll be wearing it."

Ianto frowned down at his palm. "What about the short circuit that stuck my suit to me?"

"It worked for Owen," Jack replied with a shrug. "Changed him back and he could even take off his shirt again." He seemed to realize that was exactly the wrong thing to say when Ianto's eyes went wide and he took two very slow steps closer to Jack.

"So you've had this all night but didn't think to mention it?" Low words whispered against Jack's cheek had Jack's eyes slipping closed, and not just from shame.

"I was going to, but honestly…" Jack opened his eyes, and the vulnerable look in them went straight to Ianto's heart. "You're gorgeous. And I had such an amazing time I just forgot."

Ianto ran his fingers along the device, turning it over in his palm as he studied it and contemplated the possibilities. "So this is how you ended up with yours, then?" he asked. Jack nodded wordlessly. "And all I have to do is think about what I want to wear and it appears?" Another nod. "Is there a button that returns me to normal and lets me take off my clothes?"

"Button on the left," Jack murmured. "Go ahead, try it. You can't make your pinstripe reappear as that device won't have the original pattern locked in, but you can essentially give yourself a new one."

Ianto held onto it, however. He let a slow smile cross his face as he casually tossed it up and caught it, enjoying the look of wariness on Jack's face. With a broader smirk, he cocked his head toward the bedroom. "Coming?" he asked as he turned and walked away. He was rubbing his index finger over the right button, wondering where to start. And then he knew.

As soon as they entered the bedroom he tossed it to Jack, who caught it with a look of confusion. "Ianto?" he asked, clearly uncertain.

"I like the suit, Jack," Ianto replied, moving closer. "But there's something else I'd like to see you in as well."

And just like that Jack understood. He fingered the device with a grin. "I don't need this for you to see me in nothing, you know."

"Oh yes you do." Ianto leaned forward and whispered something in Jack's ear.

Jack nodded and placed a simple, soft kiss to his mouth. "I like the way you think, Ianto Jones." He hit the button.

"And I like the way you look, Captain."

It was Halloween, and Ianto couldn't think of anything better than playing dress up with Jack Harkness. With a smirk, he held out his hand for the device, then hit the button himself, enjoying the look of wide-eyed lust in Jack's eyes. They fell into bed with a tangle of limbs and kisses and caresses, and soon enough, Ianto felt his shirt being removed.

It didn't come back, and he breathed a sigh of relief before removing the rest of their clothing, pinning Jack to the bed, and once more making it worth Jack's while. Jack returned the favor when they woke up, and it was somewhat later than usual that they walked into the Hub, hand in hand, grinning broadly, the costume replicator tucked securely into Ianto's pocket.

It could not only come in handy out in the field, but it would certainly come in handy later that night.

Ianto had more than one fantasy, after all.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! I wasn't quite sure how far to take the end, so I hope it worked. I'd totally be one of those people staring at Jack and Ianto in the restaurant! This story is now complete so do please let me know what you thought! Thanks for reading!


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